Echoes of Guilt
by ObsessivelyOdd
Summary: Wolf is feeling guilty. It takes an unusual visitation to snap him out of it. Rated T for language. One-Shot


_A/N: Ok, so I'm not quite sure where this came from, but I hope you like it. Please tell me what you think._

_Disclaimer: Not mine_

***

Wolf took another long swig from the bottle he was holding.

It burnt. That was good.

Snake and Eagle and even Fox had come over earlier, to try and 'snap him out of it' as they put it. It hadn't worked. They had left about an hour ago when he had ceased to look at them or respond to any of the questions they asked him.

He could feel the liquor numbing him inside. Relief from the guilt.

He had nearly shot the psychiatrist the Sergeant had sent him to. There was nothing wrong with him. He simply wanted to die.

He didn't deserve to live.

He had never been responsible for a death of someone on his side before. He had never made a bad decision, or at least not one so bad that it had cost lives. And he had been so sure that it had been the _right_ decision. _So _sure. And yet, he had still died. Died directly because of him.

They had put him on indefinite leave. He was off active duty until he sorted himself out, or let someone else do it for him.

Oh, he could sort himself out all right. He just needed his gun.

Belatedly, he remembered that Fox had taken it.

"Damn," muttered Wolf.

"You know, you shouldn't swear," said a voice, laughingly.

Wolf jumped up, his hand flying to where his gun would be if he still had one. He _knew_ that no-one had entered the apartment.

"Oh, sit down, Wolf. You look like an idiot."

Warily, Wolf sat down, casting an eye around the apartment, realising for the first time how dark it was. He guessed the electricity meter had just run out.

In a shadowy corner, Wolf could just about make out a figure, the moonlight glinting slightly off golden hair and white teeth.

"Cub?" he said, his voice hoarse.

"Yes, Wolf?" smiled Cub.

"But- But you're dead," stammered Wolf.

"I know."

Wolf opened his mouth to say something, then promptly shut it again. This definitely wasn't within his field of experience.

"Just don't think about it," advised Cub. "It's easier if you don't try to figure it out. Trust me."

"Oh and you're an expert on receiving ghosts?"asked Wolf, caustically. Immediately he mentally scolded himself. Here he was, faced with a ghost or spirit or _something _– assuming it wasn't a hallucination brought on by copious amounts of alcohol from dubious sources – and all he can do is speak like that.

But Cub simply laughed. "Same old Wolf underneath all the liquor then?"

Wolf didn't respond. Cub walked forward, out of the shadows and studied the bottle on the table.

"You do realise that that isn't even Vodka, don't you?" he said eventually. "It's Russian moonshine. Absolutely lethal. You're going to have a hell of a hangover in the morning."

He paused, then pouted. "And for my funeral too."

Ah, so it probably was just a hallucination.

Wait, if it was a hallucination, how did Cub know it was moonshine? And if it wasn't moonshine then that would mean it wasn't a hallucination which would mean that it was moonshine and...

Cub laughed. "I said don't think about it, didn't I? You're not going to be able to explain it and even if I swear that it is not a hallucination, or a dream, you'll never be entirely sure until you're dead."

Wolf groaned and lowered his head to the table.

"No, don't pass out, I'm here for a reason after all."

"Oh yeah?" muttered Wolf, "and what's that?"

"To apologise."

Wolf blinked. "Apologise for _what_?" he hissed. "You have nothing to apologise for."

"Yes, I do. Do you remember when you first saw me again?"

_Wolf mentally yelled at himself. Of all the stupid, idiotic things to do, he had to get separated from his unit and then, even worse, caught!_

_He only had himself to blame, he knew that, but as he was dragged through the maze of tunnels, that wasn't much comfort._

_They came to a heavy metal door and he was pushed roughly through into a dark cell._

"_Don't run away, now, soldier," jeered the men as they walked away._

_Wolf closed his eyes and counted to ten, trying to adjust them to the dim lighting._

_Soon he could make out the shape of the cell. It wasn't especially interesting, a cuboid five foot by five by eight and, in the corner, a shape._

_He approached warily and, as he got closer, he recognised it as a child, a teenager. What on earth was he doing _here_?_

"_Soldier?" gasped the teen._

"_Yeah, kid?" replied Wolf. He could hear in the kid's voice that he was hurt, and badly._

"_Why are you here?"_

_Wolf frowned. The kid _was_ in the middle of the enemy base, a captive no less, he probably had a right to know, but Wolf couldn't really decide that, now, could he?_

"_Sorry, classified."_

_The boy let out a low, mocking laugh. "Don't worry, I know all about 'classified'. You can tell me."_

"_Sorry, kid, not going to happen."_

"_Fine," said the boy... and, did he just roll his eyes? It was hard to tell in the darkness._

"_What is wrong with you?" asked Wolf._

_The boy laughed, a sarcastic, poisonous sound that raised the hairs on the back of his neck, but didn't answer._

"_What's your name?" the kid asked, eventually._

"_Wolf," said Wolf._

"_W-Wolf?" asked the kid._

"_Yeah, it's a code name."_

"_I know. I have one too."_

"_Right, sure."_

"_It's Cub."_

_Wolf froze. "Cub? As in, Brecon Beacons, French Alps, Cub?"_

"_You got it."_

"_Shit."_

"_Tell me about it. You don't happen to have a way out, do you?"_

_Wolf shook his head._

"_Was worth a try," muttered Cub. "You may as well sleep. They won't come back until the sun comes up."_

***

"Cub, of course I remember, how could I forget?" said Wolf hoarsely.

"You remember thinking immediately that I was already injured?"

Wolf nodded, watching the kid as he stalked back to the corner. He didn't make a sound as he moved. Wolf was pretty sure he saw him pass through an armchair, or then again, it could have been a trick of the light.

"Do you remember the morning?"

***

_The sun came up early, shining through a high, dusty window. Wolf hadn't slept well, he had been too busy listening for the slightest noise from Cub. There hadn't been any. Not even a rustle. He was certain the kid hadn't slept at all._

_As the first rays hit the far wall, Wolf gasped._

"_Cub?" he breathed, running to the kids side as the true damage became clear._

_He was covered in blood. His once blond hair was matted red with it. Wolf could see several long, deep cuts covering his lower arms below the ragged t-shirt the kid was wearing, also dark with blood. His breathing was ragged with strain, and one of his legs was twisted at an odd angle._

_But the worst was his face. Some-one had carved a Scorpion into his cheek, its tail ending just above his eye. He traced it gently with a single finger and the kid winced._

"_What is it?" the kid asked. "They said they were marking me... but refused to say what with. They... just laughed."_

"_A scorpion," said Wolf, quietly._

"_Bastards," growled Cub. "Those fucking _bastards_."_

"_Let me see," commanded Wolf, gently lifting up the kid's shirt. The sight that met him was horrific. The cuts on his arms were continued, and overlaid with whip marks and bruises and blacked bits of skin as if he had been burnt. His chest was malformed, with one side of his ribcage sinking inwards._

"_They won't come for a while. I need you to do something for me, ok, Wolf? I can't, but you can. You have to do this for me ok?"_

"_Ok, ok. What is it?" asked Wolf impatiently._

"_When they come, I'll fight them, I'll distract them. I need you to run. Go right out of the door and take the first left you can. After that the third right and keep running. At the end of the corridor they'll be a room. In the room there will be a computer, it's launching nuclear missiles at London. I need you to shut it down, ok?"_

_Wolf's eyes widened. "How on earth can you fight like this?" he asked, incredulously._

"_I'll manage," said Cu. "Though... do you know anything about relocating joints? I think my knee is dislocated. It'd be better if it wasn't."_

_Wolf turned to the knee. The kid was right, and Wolf snapped the joint back into place, wincing at the yell that the kid gave out._

"_Thanks," said Cub. "Will you do it?"_

"_Of course," said Wolf. It wasn't as if he had much of a choice._

"_No matter what they do to me, you just run ok? No matter what you hear."_

"_What? No! I'm not just going to let them-!"_

"_You have to," insisted Cub, hoarsely. "If not, then everyone will die."_

_Wolf scowled at him. He didn't like it._

"_Wolf," said Cub, threateningly._

"_Fine," muttered Wolf angrily._

"_Promise me," coughed Cub. Wolf thought he was getting worse._

"_I promise," said Wolf sullenly._

"_Thank you," said Alex, closing his eyes._

***

"I was dying already, Wolf. There was nothing you could do."

Wolf shook his head stubbornly. "I should have saved you."

"You couldn't. It was either buy me a few more hours of life or save the entire of London."

"If we had got you to a hospital-"

"And how did you expect to do that?" asked Alex. "They had come to torture me again. I wasn't going to survive."

"But-"

"One of my lungs collapsed as soon as they hit me, Wolf. There is nothing that could have saved me. Even if I had been in hospital, there would have been almost zero chance of survival."

"But Cub-"

_***_

_He had done it, the countdown had stopped. Now he just had to go back and find Cub. He had to get him out of here._

_He ducked back down the corridors._

_He could see the cell. With a jolt of terror he saw the door was open and he raced towards it. About half way there, he tripped over something. He lay sprawled on the floor for a moment then turned to see what had tripped him._

"_Fuck," he muttered, crawling hurriedly closer._

_It was Cub. He was dead. A small, neat bullet hole between his eyes attested to the fact._

"_Shit, no," cried Wolf, pulling the boy into his arms._

_That was where they found him, an hour later, when the SAS were doing a final sweep of the building._

_Slowly, one of the soldiers loosened his arms and took the boy into his arms._

"_Who was he?" asked one of the soldiers quietly, looking over his shoulder at the broken body."_

"_Cub," said Wolf hoarsely, still kneeling on the floor. "We called him Cub."_

_The soldiers looked at him. He could read the sudden comprehension and sympathy in their eyes._

"_He died for his country," muttered one with respect._

_None of them said the words hovering in the air between them._

_He shouldn't have had to._

_***_

"So I shouldn't have been a spy at aged sixteen, but I was good. I never failed a mission. Even that one. It was my destiny to die then, as it was yours to stop the bomb and live."

"Destiny," spat Wolf. "Don't talk to me about destiny."

"But yours is still ahead of you," said Cub. "It's why I was sent here. You have something very important to do, and you can't do it sitting here wallowing in a misplaced sense of guilt."

"But-"

"No buts," said Cub firmly. "Stop being such an arse, Wolf. Stop drinking, stop thinking about shooting yourself. Go talk to that poor psychiatrist, or maybe a different one, I doubt she would want to see you again. Sort yourself out. And for gods' sake, don't drop out of the SAS. Ok?"

Wolf nodded slowly.

The room was getting darker, he realised. He could barely see Cub now, and, was there another figure behind him.

"Alex?" said an unfamiliar voice from the corner. "Come on, times up."

"Just a minute, dad," said Cub. Turning to Wolf, he continued, "I've got to go. Just... live your life, ok? And don't worry about me, I'm at peace."

Wolf opened his mouth to say something, but Cub was gone. Shortly after, the lights flickered and came back on.

Wolf stared at the bottle of alcohol on the table, then crossed to the sink.

He watched the liquid drain away with a renewed sense of determination then crossed to his bedroom.

***

Wolf groaned as he woke up. Gods, he didn't want to get up today, but he had to. Why did he have to again? His head hurt so much.

Something caught his eye. His full dress uniform was hanging at the end of the bed.

He was sure he hadn't put it there. He hadn't known where half of it was, and what he had known about was generally dirty.

Tagged to the shirt was a note, in unfamiliar handwriting.

"Wolf – lay off the moonshine. Your destiny awaits."

Wolf rolled his eyes. He could hear the mocking tones anyway.

But it was Cub's funeral today. And he wouldn't let him down.

THE END


End file.
